


Journey of a Leaf

by Gallusadin



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallusadin/pseuds/Gallusadin
Summary: Day three in a daily attempt to sharpen my creative writing skills and all that stuff. I post these things publicly because I am a masochist.





	Journey of a Leaf

10 / 30 / 19 - “A Journey” Shaken from its perch high above the mountains, a leaf embarks on a new journey on its way down.  
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Perched at the very top of the very tallest oak on the mountainside was a leaf. A rather uninspiring leaf on its own if you were to be honest, one of many thousands of similar leafs on this very tree alone. But things are not always as they appear, and this leaf had a claim to distinction. It was the very first out of all the leaves on this mountain to see the sunrise. Basked in the cool darkness of night, it joined its brethren in sleep; enveloped on all sides by a blanket of stars, and presided over by the haunting moon. Every morning, when the first hesitant rays of sunlight broke the horizon; and that enrapturing spell of midnight was broken, and the time came to awaken the other leaves, that was this solitary leafs claim to fame.

It came as it always did; slowly, boldly, proudly. Casting aside the thick curtain of black that ruled the night and filling the sky its own magnificent display. Could the leaf think, it would surely marvel at the splendor of a force powerful enough to make the sky its own canvas. Pinks and blues and oranges of every hue swiftly dominated the horizon as that brilliant glowing orb made its inexorable march up the sky. The surrounding landscape gradually came into view, and for all of the many weeks this leaf had been atop its perch, it never diminished in splendor. A towering, jagged mountain top that rose mightily above the many small villages below, wearing a coat of many trees, with numerous raging rivers and gentle streams running down. The rolling hills below all worked and fenced properly by the prosperous people of the valley who made their home below.

The slender leaf dipped and swayed deeply against the chill breeze that so often frequented such precarious heights. If its wakening display in the radiance of the sun had not yet roused the thousands of other leaves from their sleep, the howling gale that raced through the branches like a river through a canyon certainly would. The tree, and his many brethren cried out terribly against the winds; echoing a hollow moan as the constant breeze passed through their branches. Through the endless tug and pull of wind and snow (which only increased when that magnificent sun ended its daily performance) our little leaf persevered; standing tall atop the highest of heights, basking in the glory of day.

All things must come to an end.

For a moment there was silence; a rare commodity in such busy heights. All seemed to be still, and the leaves took their peace, and enjoyed the sun. Had the leaves the faculties to see what brew below, and the power of self determination necessary to hold fast to their branches, they would have known that peace to be short lived. Along the slopes of the mountain a wild whirlwind of snow and bitter wind came into being; like some primal elemental entity, a Grecian titan formed of chaos and motivated to break the majestic order of the mountainside. It whipped fast and sharp, picking up speed as it tore up the slopes; screaming and biting and unrelenting. Our leaf, all leaves, had no conception of a force so malicious, and were thus unprepared. Swiftly, that terrible abomination of ice and hate opened wide its voracious maw and tore deep into the mighty oak our little leaf presided over; cataclysm took over instantaneously, and the wild bowing of the trees trunk was met in intensity with the unrelenting fury of a winter wind. 

Our leaf put up no resistance, obviously; and was sheared from its regal perch among leaves and was hurled to heights far above even the mountains peak. That stalwart leaf, who had known only the resolute consistency of its perch atop the mountain, was now spirling uncontrollably in the chill, open air. In honesty, if the leaf were capable, it would not describe the experience as unpleasant; terrifying as it may have been. All routine had been thrown aside, and the impossible suddenly became very much a reality. As our lone, wind tossed leaf gently fell through the sky; rocking back and forth or flipping in wide loops as if in ecstatic jubilation at its newfound freedom, it would come into question in the minds of all witnessing such a scene, if that ferocious wind was not a blessing. Sent for leaves who had become too sedentary and content. Such philosophical ponderings were wasted this day, however; for there were none present to witness this scene, other than the leaves. Gracefully the leaf drifted through the sky, having felt closer to the sun that it ever had in the past, and now plunging far below its old post. 

The wide, expansive mountaintop it once inhabited was in the past; and for once the leafs surroundings narrowed dramatically in scope. Gone was the towering peak, and so too had that wild freedom of open air fled as quickly as it came. Broad swaths of land now replaced with sharply dipping hills and large boulders. For the first time trees became enormous titans filled to the brim with thousands, tens of thousands of brother and sister leaves; No longer diminutive, far off backdrops to its orchestra of sunlight. The fragile leaf, now far from home and surrounded on all sides by leaves bigger and more numerous, and unimpressed by the position it once held, slowly swayed delicately between the trees, avoiding conflict as it sank low in the canopy. 

As though searching for a clear area it might land and find refuge from such menacing leaves, our leaf dipped quickly and settled softly with a delicate “plip” noise in a nearby still, calm channel of cool water. The Aeiserspring greater, it was called; not that the leave could have known that, or would have cared if it did. For now the enormous majesty of tree and mountain was a thing of the past, as it lay motionless in the chest-deep, crystal blue and green waters of the aeiserspring. Floating effortlessly, suspended by a magic the leaf could not know; the languidly slow current of the channel began to drag the helpless leaf through the snakelike, winding turns of the Aeiserspring. Once again caught in the grips of powers far greater than its own, the small leaf took the ride gracefully. Basking in the warm beams of sunlight from its old friend (how far away it seemed now!) through the trees, and cooling in the ambrosia like waters below. 

For many hours the leaf explored as it rode the slowly increasing current down the side of the Harrowspire. New plants wildly different from anything that managed to survive the frigid peaks bloomed abundantly in these water rich fields. Flowers that easily matched that artistic glory the sun displayed with each morn stretched yawningly over the hills. Mysterious creatures darted from branch to branch in the trees, and hid within bushes. There had been chipmunks at the peaks, of course, and rarely did a bird come to join the leaf in its quiet contemplation atop the mountain; these creatures however, were large. Roaming the fields, tearing leaf and grass from the very ground and devouring them greedily. The leafs unspoken, unconscious anxiety and desires were fulfilled when the stream took a precipitous drop and increased in speed. The chaos of that winter wind returned as the leaf plunged below the surface of the water for the first time. Suspended in a manner not too different from that initial experience of free flight, the leaf would have been comfortable here, had it not been dragged along at such impossible speeds; and of course, if it had been capable of such feelings. 

Churning below the now dark surface of the water, lost in some Lovecraftian realm of deepness and fear; the leaf yearned for breath (metaphorically, of course) and when at last it broke the surface, all things returned to that far away sense of stillness. That small, vicious stream had emptied into a wide, enormous river. The peak it once inhabited now barely visible from this location, this river was surrounded on all sides by yet more trees. These trees, however, were not wild, and intimidating; but were very clearly worked and trimmed by intelligent hands. A breeze, much warmer and comforting than those high up in the spires, propelled the leaf forward and it sailed along the river gracefully, cutting a small current of its own as it navigated the glass smooth surface. When the trees at last opened up, the most fascinating scene imaginable to an ignorant young leaf manifested before it. A small village of stone and wood, with many houses and a large clock tower, with smoke emanating from chimneys and a chatter rising up from it so foreign to the woods. 

As if drawn to investigate such an otherworldly scene, the motivated leaf drew close to the shore. Coming at last to a large cobblestone bridge that somehow managed to cross the span of this vast river. Shrill cries and bare feet splashed in the cool water near the shore as two magnificent creatures played under the sun. A young boy, and a young girl. As the leaf gathered its metaphorical courage and drifted into their field of play, the young girl took notice of its strange shape and firmness. 

“Amil!” she cried out, waving wildly to the small boy attempting to scale the cobblestone behind her “Come and see, come and see!” she wailed, plucking our friend the leaf right out of the water and holding it high. 

“What do you want Emma?” came the mocking response from the young boy (as boys are so prone to do at such an age) “It’s JUST a leaf” 

“JUST a leaf?!” she protested, taken aback at her friends lack of insight. “This is a special leaf, it has seen much and come from far, far away” she explained, kicking into a pirouette as her excitement mounted. “I must put it in my crown!” she gasped at the sudden realization, and bolted from the shore, leaving her shoes, and a very confused boy in her wake. 

By nights fall, our friend the leaf had a new perch. Atop a crown of grass and flower, woven with vine and shaped perfectly for the head of the small princess it was destined to convey royalty too. A fitting perch, for so special a leaf. 

“And that” Pappa Hargrave said with a gentle finality “It the story of how your crown jewel came to you,” he explained, running his fingers through the soft blonde hair of the young girl curled up in his chest. The two of them looked to the shelf across the room, and admired the crown, a tiara fit for a forest princess. 

“Are you SURE daddy?” the exhausted, and enchanted Emma Hargrave exclaimed as she burrowed her face into his belly. Sleep had already begun to overtake her, and her father's gentle reassurances ushered in that final embrace of night.

“Of course, princess of the Eversong” Pappa Hargrave said through a smile, as he doused the candle, and left his princess to dreams.


End file.
